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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605933">small comforts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings'>swancharmings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Suits (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marital bliss comes in many forms. Drabble, post-canon</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>small comforts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know everyone is having a hard time, and this was something I wrote for me that made me smile this morning, but I thought I’d share it in case anyone else needs to smile.</p>
<p>I love you Heather and Alyssa, eternally grateful for your betas and support!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m fucking boiling,” Donna gripes, yanking her — </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> — t-shirt over her head and shimmying out of her shorts. Harvey cracks one eye open from underneath his arm, the sheets kicked low around his knees.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Air’s on,” he grumbles. Donna swipes the flyaways off her sticky forehead with a frown.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not helping.” The mattress jostles as she falls on her back unceremoniously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harvey leans over to give her a peck on the cheek and her face scrunches. “Too hot,” she whines and he chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please turn the air up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s up all the way,” he mumbles under his breath, though still with a hint of a smile because pouty Donna is adorable, even if she’s annoyed at him for no good reason.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He digs the fan they used to help dry the paint on their living room walls out of the front closet, cursing as it falls on his bare foot. “Son of a bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Harvey?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on,” he snaps, then instantly feels guilty. Tensions are high but it’s not her fault, it’s the fucking heat stroke in Seattle — </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seattle</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mild climate my ass</span>
  </em>
  <span> — in September that is unprecedented for this time of year.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two-foot fan and extension cord are dragged across the hardwood — he’ll be reamed out for it in the morning but right now he can’t bring himself to care, and he doubts that Donna cares either — and he dumps it on their bedroom floor, switches it on and plops back down in bed with a sigh of relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhh sweet Jesus,” Donna moans as the cool air envelopes them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Better?” His tone is soft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Donna turns to him, rests her cheek against his shoulder. “Sorry I’m a grouch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thumbs her brow. “Sorry I’m a dick.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not you,” they say at the same time, and they laugh, shoulders shaking against each other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harvey gives her a dumb smile and she looks at him in confusion. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is nice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donna smirks. “Melting at three in the morning? Yeah, I’ll pass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he bops her on the nose, “laying with you. Like this.” There’s that look in his eye that she knows means he’s about to say something sweet and disarming that throws her completely off guard (and makes her love him even more). “Skin on skin, just...naked, and lying together, but not in a sexual way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow. Am I that boring already?” she teases and he pokes her in the ribs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that’s not what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their legs tangle beneath the sheet, despite everything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe they toss and turn and kick the blankets off the bed, and maybe they can’t stay entwined because it’s too damn hot, but Harvey holds her pinky in sleep and his breath tickles her chest and it’s enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the small comforts.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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